


The Wayne Family Bubblewrap Dynasty

by anthologia



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Injury, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness, batfamily
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-25 08:57:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3804457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthologia/pseuds/anthologia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with a patrol. A normal, average patrol where Tim took down a few criminals he’d been tracking and ran into Poison Ivy. She managed to hit him with some kind of light, odorless gas, but it didn’t seem to have any effect on him that he could determine. He went over the usual antidotes and took a decontamination shower and counted himself lucky.</p><p>That’s how he got to this point, handcuffed to the bed with a crazy family that had convinced itself he was too vulnerable to be let out of their sight, too fragile to even be trusted with his own safety.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yeah idk it seemed like a good idea at the time. This is more a series of connected ficlets than a proper fic.
> 
> Also I sat around trying to think of a better title for like half an hour, I give up.

Tim has been glaring at his closed door for almost half an hour. If it had feelings, it probably would have burst into tears and run off dramatically by now. But it’s wood. It does give him plenty of practice, though, so he is in _excellent_ form when an actual person finally walks through the door.

“Timmy.”

He refuses to answer, on principle. Just because Dick is _looking_ at him with big, sad eyes and coming up close to kneel by the bed and take hold of his hand doesn’t change anything. He is e _xtremely_ pissed off, and nothing anyone says or does will make this okay.

Dick sighs like the freeze-out is actually physically painful for him. “We just want you to be safe, Tim. We’ve lost enough members of this family. We can’t count on you coming back every time.”

Tim raises an eyebrow at him, doing his best to emote _you know you’re an actual psychopath, right?_ without actually using words. “Dick,” he says, quiet and dangerously calm. “Let me go.”

Dick squeezes his hand and looks at him sadly. “I wish I could, Babybird. But we both know I can’t.”

“Dick, there’s _nothing wrong with me._ I’m pretty sure everyone else in this family has gone insane, but _I’m_ fine.” Tim moves his right hand a little, the one that’s currently being held hostage to the wall. “Just let me go.”

Instead of helping, Dick just takes hold of his wrist and runs his thumb along the edges where metal meets skin, somewhere between testing that the handcuff is still secure and checking for signs that Tim’s hurt himself trying to get out of it.

To his horror, Tim hears his breath hitch in his throat in something like a sob. He’s been here for a couple days now, and this isn’t even the worst situation he’s been in but he’s starting to think he might go crazy. Because this is his _family_ keeping him hostage, and they’re being as loving and kind to him as anyone could ever hope for except for the part where they _won’t let him go_ and have no idea how unbelievably fucked up this is.

Dick makes a noise like a wounded animal at the sound of Tim’s distress and immediately crawls onto the bed to wrap him in a hug. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay. We love you so much. You’re safe here.”

It feels like he’s slept more in the past two days he’s been stuck here than he had in the past week, but when Dick starts shushing him and rubbing soothing circles into his back, there’s nothing much else to do but be quiet, close his eyes, and hope the world makes more sense when he wakes up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How it began.

It started with a patrol. A normal, average patrol where he took down a few criminals he’d been tracking and ran into Poison Ivy. She managed to hit him with some kind of light, odorless gas, but it didn’t seem to have any effect on him that he could determine. He went over the usual antidotes and took a decontamination shower and counted himself lucky.

He _should_ have figured it out when he went down to breakfast the next morning. Dick was always affectionate, so there was nothing out of the ordinary there, but Alfred had treated him with far more concern than necessary given that there was nothing wrong with him, and even Damian had frowned at Tim’s admittedly light choice of breakfast and snapped that he needed to be eating far more than that.

It just got worse throughout the day. Bruce went ridiculously easy on him when he tried to train. Damian, for some reason, decided to keep him stocked in water bottles and archly informed him that he looked irritatingly dehydrated whenever Tim looked like he might be about to ask what they were for. Dick actually physically picked him up and carried him out of the Cave when he declared Tim had done enough researching for the day, despite the fact that it was only _seven_. When he complained to Alfred, the butler told him, not unkindly, that he _had_ been looking a little ragged lately, and perhaps the others had just picked up on it.

Which would be _fine_ , if it wasn’t for the fact that they decided they _wouldn’t let him patrol._ Without even talking to him. Bruce just told him he wasn’t _allowed_ to go out as Red Robin that night, as if he still got the last say in what Tim did or didn’t do. Tim had snorted and gone for his uniform anyway, only to be blocked by Damian.

“You heard Father,” the little monster had told him with a haughty sniff. “You’d only be a hindrance, particularly in your _condition._ ”

At the time, Tim _was_ about to brush him aside like the little twerp he was, but Damian’s wording made him pause, if only out of sheer confusion. “What condition?”

Dick approached carefully from where he’d been entering some information into the computer. “Tim… we’ve been talking about this. We don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go out anymore. If you get hurt… you don’t have a s _pleen_ , Tim, you’re way more likely to get an infection that you can’t fight off. It’s too dangerous.”

Before he could argue against that, Bruce approached him from the side and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. “I haven’t always taken care of you like I should have. But I’m going to change that.” Tim opened his mouth to demand to know what _that_ was supposed to mean, but before he could gather his thoughts, he felt the gentle prick of a needle break his skin.

His eyes widened slightly to look at Dick, surprised and betrayed, but Dick just shushed him softly and helped Bruce lower Tim to the ground before he could collapse. The last thing he could remember seeing clearly was Damian patting his arm in an uncharacteristically gentle touch.


	3. Chapter 3

He’s been in the room for almost a week now, his family coming in to feed him and keep him company and make sure he hasn’t figured out a way to slip his restraints, when he finally just. Gives up. He was hoping the toxin Ivy used would have worn off by now, but Damian, Dick, Bruce, and Alfred show no signs of improvement.

Instead of glaring or yelling or arguing the next time someone comes to his room, Tim stays curled up, knees pressed to his chest. Dick tussles his hair affectionately on his way to the bedside chair each member of his family has taken their turn using. (Even Damian, despite professing to still not care about him, has spent a few hours at his side.)

Tim licks his lips. “Dick?”

“What is it, little brother?”

“What if…” He very carefully does not look at Dick. “What if… you’re right? What if I’m willing to admit you might have a point?”

Dick’s attention sharpens on him instantly, and some tiny, hurt part of Tim wonders if Dick would pay attention to him like that if Ivy’s chemicals weren’t involved. “A point about what?”

“Me. What if I’m… what if I _do_ need help?”

“Oh, _Timmy_.” Dick is suddenly wrapped around him in a hug, and Tim thinks about what he knows about interventions and confrontations and admitting you have a problem, and he lets himself shake very slightly.

“I’m sorry. _I’m sorry_ , I _know_ I take too many risks I can’t afford now, but I get in over my head and don’t know how to ask for help, and I just, I don’t want to be a burden – “

“No. _No_ , Babybird, you are _never_ going to be a burden, do you understand? _Never_. Because you’re you, and you’re _family_ ,” Dick says, and even Tim’s not sure if the tears he’s started to cry are fake or not, because Dick has _no idea_ what it feels like to hear someone say that to him, even if it’s just Ivy’s toxin speaking.

______

Things get better after his tearful confession. He’s still not allowed to be alone, but they don’t keep him handcuffed to the bed anymore. When Bruce removes it, Tim rubs his wrist and thinks about running, about escaping this place and not coming back until things are normal again.

He manages a call to Oracle and tries to explain what’s happening to her, ask her for help, but she points out that he has the resources he needs to figure this thing out in the Cave before asking him what would happen to his family if he disappeared. Tim’s not really sure if she’s honestly trying to help him or if Bruce convinced her he’s suffering from paranoia or something, but he agrees to stay, at least for now, and she promises to keep in touch.

So instead of disappearing, Tim lets Bruce carry him like an invalid to the living room to watch a movie. He lets Dick surround him with pillows and eats the healthy snacks Alfred sets on the table in front of him. He even lets Damian drape a blanket over his lap and then – because the brat hesitates and just looks so _young_ and worried, like a real little brother – he sighs and pulls Damian onto the couch. The ten-year-old is a strangely comforting weight against his side, even when Damian freezes up in surprise, but he doesn’t struggle, and little by little, he relaxes into Tim’s half-hug. Tim’s shocked when they reach the credits and he realizes the brat’s fallen asleep, his breathing steady and calm and his face pressed into Tim’s shirt. Dick just grins at them fondly and tucks an extra blanket around Damian.

The thing is, it’s… surprisingly nice. Not the part where he’s unable to spend any time alone, because barely having any privacy makes him feel claustrophobic. But the way they _treat_ him. Like he’s something precious and worthy of their time, and they can’t imagine it being any other way.

He can’t convince them to let him into the Batcave in case he does something counterproductive to their efforts like grab his Red Robin uniform and sneak out, but he does manage to gain access to the upstairs gym again if by promising to stick to non-violent exercise and let someone supervise his workouts. Most of the time, it’s Dick, who’s been taking him through some yoga he didn’t even realize his older brother knew. It’s nothing like he used to be capable of, but he’s grateful for the opportunity to push at the limits of what his body can do again.

Damian is the biggest surprise. The kid is still terrible at interacting with people, but around Tim, he’s been… more careful. Like he’s purposefully blunting his sharp edges. The brat actually wants to spend time with Tim, and he has it on good authority (Dick) that Damian gets sulky and more violent if he doesn’t get his “Tim fix”, which is practically a declaration of everlasting devotion by Damian’s standards in a way that kind of makes Tim’s heart hurt.

(It’s not real.)


	4. Chapter 4

Jason.

Fucking _Jason_.

Jason decides to launch an attack, which Tim suspects might have actually been his own, psychologically-screwed-up way of checking on him, because Red Robin hasn’t been out patrolling for a little over a month now. Tim wakes up with a knife against his throat (so just like old times, then), and he knocks Jason off of him, but he’s stupidly unprepared. He hasn’t so much as sparred since the incident with Ivy (hasn’t been _allowed_ to), and his reflexes have dulled. Jason cuts a long, deep gash in his arm before Damian crashes in, alerted by the sounds of a fight. He launches himself at Jason, a tiny lethal package of highly-trained angry boy, forcing Jason off Tim and onto the defensive. Bruce appears out of absolutely _nowhere_ to take over, quickly incapacitating Jason, while Dick grabs Damian to keep him from making things worse.

Once the threat is dealt with, the attention in the room turns to Tim. Tim opens his mouth to say something, a _nything_ , but instead he kind of just. Collapses. There’s a _lot_ of his blood on the floor already. It seems excessive. Someone presses one of Tim’s sheets against his arm to soak up what’s still spilling out, and someone else is trying to talk to him, but he’s cold and confused and it really seems better to just go to sleep for now and find out what they want when he wakes up.

__

The good news is: he’s not dead.

The bad news is: not only did the cut on his arm hit an artery, but Tim developed an infection pretty much _immediately_. He spends several days half-delirious from a high fever. He genuinely thinks he’s _still_ completely out of it when he wakes up to Jason crying messily and begging for his forgiveness.

(So Jason’s infected now, too. _Perfect_. It couldn’t have happened _before_ he brought knives into the mix?)

Tim kind of feels like crying, too, but for reasons that have more to do with being exhausted and sick and hurting and realizing that he is still, a _month_ after the fact, capable of infecting people with whatever Ivy did to him. Bruce, thank god, steps in about then to get Jason out of his face (but not before Tim grudgingly says something vaguely encouraging to him, mostly because he’s feeling sort of freaked out by the Red Hood’s sudden turn for the repentant).

He thinks Bruce must add something extra to the IV in his arm then, because he’s overcome by an extremely powerful wave of exhaustion and falls back asleep barely a minute after.

__

That whole stupid incident lost him almost all of his progress. Before Jason broke in, he’d been making some headway in gaining his family’s trust again. He even got Bruce to let him in the Batcave for short, supervised visits, which meant he’d finally been able to start searching everyone’s medical information and tox screens for abnormalities. They were treating him… not _normal_ , but more like maybe he didn’t need to be watched every second of every day.

Now, he’s stuck in bed, _again_ , and the only reason he’s not handcuffed to it to be on the safe side is that he’s legitimately too exhausted to try escaping for the first few days after waking up. Mostly, he just drifts in and out of sleep, occasionally waking up to one of his brothers having crawled into bed with him for company (usually Dick, but surprisingly Damian on occasion, too).

It’s a good several days after the point where Tim could have started getting up before he talks Damian into letting him at least go downstairs for an hour or two, which is an incredibly pathetic victory but a victory nonetheless. Even though Damian follows him like he expects Tim to collapse at any moment, despite Tim being _fine_ and perfectly capable on his own.

(All right. Maybe he’s a tiny bit grateful for the brat’s presence when he stumbles a little and needs someone solid to steady him. Maybe it takes too long to go from his bedroom to the living room, and maybe he’s inexplicably exhausted when he gets to the couch. Maybe his family had a miniscule-but-legitimate reason to be concerned about his lack of spleen.)

Dick’s already there when he and Damian come trudging in, and he gives Damian a _look_ that Tim recognizes as being his _we are going to talk about this later, buddy_ face,but the smile he turns on Tim is genuinely, openly pleased. By unspoken agreement, Tim is granted the majority of the couch to stretch out on with his back propped up against Dick, who drags Damian into the fold by tucking him against the side Tim is not using. It’s kind of a tight fit, but it’s… nice. Normal.

Dick flicks the television on to a Star Trek marathon, and Tim falls asleep before the second commercial break.

__

The thing is. It’s _hard_ sometimes, to remember why this is so bad. Maybe it’s because his family has stopped being as smothering as they were when this first started, or maybe he’s just gotten so used to it that he doesn’t notice as much. But everyone’s constantly paying attention to him, being nice and listening to him and spending time with him even when he doesn’t have anything to say at all.

And Tim’s not positive, but he thinks Damian is benefiting from this in a weird way. He acts more… normal, happy, like the kid he’s supposed to be instead of the assassin he was raised to be. And Jason – he’s worked out some sort of deal with Bruce and seems like he might actually be _trying_ to do better, get better this time. Tim’s left feeling confused and uncertain, because. Is it real? Or are they just doing what forcibly-altered brain chemistry is telling them to do? Does it even matter?

He has to _remind_ himself that it’s wrong, that this isn’t what these people are really like. That _he_ isn’t the delicate, sickly brother who needs utmost care in all things and has the ability to unite his family over mutual concern. He doesn’t _need_ anyone to follow him around when he’s outside and insist on rest whenever he looks even momentarily tired, or to make sure he eats everything he’s given. He’s _strong_. He’s _Red Robin_.

Still, some selfish part of him kind of wants to just keep this. Let everyone keep doting on him, making him feel _wanted_. Is that so wrong?

(Yes. Maybe. He’s not sure.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim calls for back-up, or at least advice. He gets doubt instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really all that confident in my Cass, but. Hopefully I didn't mess her up too badly.

Tim has… theories. Nothing solid. His current working theory is that he’s putting off… _something_ , some chemical cocktail that Ivy tricked his body into producing. It’s vague and unproven, but it wouldn’t be the first time anything like that happened. He and Steph stumbled on someone who produced a mind-altering scent back when they were Robin and Spoiler, and she wasn’t even aware of it. Of course, there’s no easy way to test that without asking everyone to plug up their noses and seeing if it wears off. He can just _imagine_ how his family would react if he tried to convince them that they’re not _actually_ this concerned about his well-being, just drugged.

So he calls up the last family member he can guarantee he hasn’t had physical contact with since this started. “Cass.”

 _“Tim.”_ She sounds a little distracted, like she’s in the middle of a patrol. _“You’re okay?”_

“I’m fine.” He tugs at the bandage still on his arm. It can probably come off in another day or two. “What did you hear?”

 _“Jason attacked. He’s taken care of now_. _”_

That’s one way to describe it. “Yeah. Listen, Cass, I think the rest of the family might be compromised.”

There’s a silence. _“How?”_

“I was hit by something of Ivy’s a while back. I’m still not sure what. I felt fine, but everyone else… It’s like they all just went collectively insane around me. They handcuffed me to a _bed_ for a while until I convinced them I wasn’t going to run out on them, and they’ve barely let me out of their sight since.”

_“Tim. I heard… otherwise.”_

Shit. He should have known she wasn’t as removed from this as he thought. “What?”

_“They told me you were… not well. Not… thinking correctly. Because of Ivy.”_

He frowns. “No. That’s not what happened. I was _fine_. They’re the ones who were acting weird.”

 _“I could come_ ,” she says, after a moment. _“Help you. But – ”_

“But you don’t believe me.” He flops backwards onto his bed and stares at the ceiling like it has some kind of answers for him. “You think there’s something wrong with me, and I just can’t remember. But – what about _Jason_? He’s been acting strangely, too, since he came into physical contact with me. He freaked out after _he_ attacked me _._ ”

 _“Jason didn’t know,”_ she says. _“You’re more… vulnerable now. Easier to hurt. When the wound was infected, it was – bad.”_

“So you think he just… had a change of heart?” Is that possible? Jason’s not really the same person who tried to kill him in Titans Tower, but it’s not like he’s shown much remorse over the injuries he’s caused before. “Just because he hurt me worse than he meant to?”

 _“Perhaps.”_ He can almost imagine the shrug. _“I will come. If you need me. But – make sure. That you need me. That what you remember is correct.”_

“Thanks, Cass. I’ll let you know.” Tim shuts his eyes and kind of wishes he’d never called Cass in the first place. Now he doesn’t have to just figure out what to do about his family, he has to figure out if _he’s_ the one with the problem. Just what he needed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim finally tells one of his infected family members about his theories. It goes great. Really.

“What made you decide? That I wasn’t okay?”

Dick frowns at him. “What do you mean?”

Tim huffs out a breath. He’s been kind of dreading this conversation ever since he talked to Cassandra, trying to ignore that niggling little doubt it planted in his head. “When you handcuffed me to the bed.”

“Oh.” Dick has the decency to wince at the memory. “I don’t know, I guess we just – it all kind of boiled over. You’d been pretty reckless and shutting us out for a while, and you didn’t even _tell_ us you had your spleen removed until you needed Alfred to patch you up. We wouldn’t have _known_ if you’d gotten hurt out there and needed special care. And then you fought Ivy, and you were acting… weird.”

Oh god. Tim steels himself for the worst. “Weird how?”

“Just… I don’t know. _Off._ No one could quite pinpoint what it was, but we all felt it. Even Damian agreed.”

And he shouldn’t – he should _plan_ this, have evidence and a solid hypothesis about what happened, but Tim hasn’t left the Manor for _weeks,_ and he’s starting to have concerns that he might go insane if this goes on much longer. “Dick. I think something’s wrong.”

It’s _amazing_ how fast that brings Dick directly to his side, these days. He vaults over a chair and lands on the couch next to Tim. “What’s wrong? Do you feel sick?”

“No, it’s… it’s you. And Bruce. And Damian. Alfred, too. Ever since that night, you’ve been acting…” He waves a hand at Dick vaguely, trying to think of a nice way to put this. “…psychotically overprotective. Like maybe you’ve been drugged. I mean, you _handcuffed me to the bed_. Just think about it. Doesn’t that sound a little like overkill?”

“Timmy…” Dick does this, this _thing_ , like his eyes go all melt-y with concern, and it’s all so genuine that Tim wants to start screaming in a way he hasn’t done since that first week, when he decided he’d get a lot more done if he cooperated.

“No. _No_. I will _not_ be the crazy one here,” he hisses before backing up so Dick can’t, can’t _hug_ him or whatever he’s planning to do. “This is not normal, Dick. Normal families do not restrain one of their members for several days. It’s not, it’s not _right._ Or _real._ I mean, Damian doesn’t even _like_ me!” His voice might have just hit a hysterical edge there. “Even Alfred doesn’t like me this much! And I was _okay_ with that, I got used to it, but you can’t expect me to believe any of this is just you being _normal!_ ”

Dick doesn’t say anything for a while, like Tim stunned him so badly he has to reboot.

“I just.” Tim sighs out, trying to go back to a place of rationality and calm. “It’s not okay, Dick. We have to fix it, so things can go back to the way they… To _normal_. I have some theories. I think maybe Ivy altered something about me, like I’m giving off a chemical scent that makes people want to, I don’t know, smother me in affection or something. How’s Jason been acting? He hasn’t been in the same room with me for a while, if he’s gone back to his normal self then that could be a clue – “

Dick tacklehugs him, emphasis on the _tackle_. One second, Tim’s outlining his theories, and the next, he’s pinned under approximately 175 pounds of heavily-trained acrobat who is apparently intent on hugging him with everything he has. “ _Timmy._ No one is drugged, okay? We’re your _family._ We don’t need to be out of our minds to love you.”

Tim pushes at him ineffectually, trying to get Dick to let go or at least loosen his hold a little. “Then how do you explain Jason? He has _literally_ tried to kill me, several times. What changed?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I want to know everything that goes through his head.” Dick relents in the face of Tim’s struggling, adjusting his grip so he’s only _mostly_ strangling the life out of Tim with his version of a full-body hug. “But he’s doing better. He said he wanted to talk to you, a couple times, but he didn’t know if it’d be welcome.”

Well. That’s. Not really what he expected, but it doesn’t disprove his theory entirely. “Just. Just let me prove it, okay? Let me back into the Batcave. I won’t try to go out, I’ll just run some analyses. Let me prove it to you.”

Dick shuts his eyes like the request is actually, physically painful to hear, but his heavy sigh sounds like victory. “Fine. I’ll talk to B about getting you back in the Cave _if_ you agree to entertain the idea that there’s nothing wrong here except the fact that you think we need to be high on something to care about you. Deal?”

And it’s really no choice at all, so Tim nods. “Deal.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim takes some more drastic measures. They backfire somewhat.

It’s a bad plan. He _knows_ it’s a bad plan, but he doesn’t really have any other solid ideas falling into his lap right now. Even with the use of the Cave’s resources, he still hasn’t managed to isolate anything that could possibly be causing the weird changes in his family’s behavior. He needs help. He needs to go to the source. So he sneaks out of the Manor. It’s sad, honestly, how great he feels just being _outside_ again after being cooped up for so long. Even _Gotham_ looks amazing compared to the same set of walls every single day.

Getting out is… difficult. He has to claim a headache and complain that anyone else in the room is aggravating it so they’ll leave him alone. He’s pretty sure he has at least a couple hours before someone checks on him, but there’s no way to know for certain. Transportation is tricky, because he can’t take any of the usual vehicles. They’re all outfitted with trackers, and it would take too long to strip them out like he did with his uniform. He settles on flagging down a taxi that he has drop him off a couple blocks from where he’s actually going, just to be on the safe side. The rest of the way, he walks.

He knows he definitely has the right location when the ground underneath his feet and the walls go from plain, solid paving to cracking with the green shoving its way into the light. The Cave’s resources are usually good for current bases, but it’s still gratifying to see proof that Ivy hasn’t moved on yet.

“You’re trespassing.”

He twists around slowly, hands open and relaxed at his sides. See, no weapons. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, which he decides to take as permission to keep going. “You dosed me with something the last time we were – “ _Fighting_ doesn’t exactly give this conversation the right tone, so he stops that sentence before it can get him in trouble. “What was it?”

She pads closer, tilting her head at him thoughtfully. “It didn’t do anything?”

“It didn’t make _me_ feel anything.” He crosses his arms. “But it’s done something to the people around me. They’re acting…”

“A little overprotective, maybe?” she asks, a little purr of amusement in her voice. “I thought that’s why the bird was left in the nest for so long.”

“So it was you. It’s because of you.”

“I developed it as an experiment,” she says, after a moment. “To see if I could trigger certain protective instincts in others. But…”

“…But it worked too well, and they started smothering you,” Tim says. “Right? And that wasn’t what you wanted.”

“No,” she agrees and stalks closer. “I expected it to have worn off by now. There must be something in your body chemistry keeping it active.” She raises a hand like she’s going to touch his face, and he steps back. Ivy’s touch is… not recommended.

“How did you neutralize it when you used it on yourself?”

She opens her mouth, about to answer, and – Tim’s yanked backwards by an arm around his chest. He struggles against it, but the owner has brute force on his side and Tim still hasn’t really recovered all his strength from the infection he had.

“Oh _fuck_ no,” the Red Hood growls out before adjusting his grip a little so he can keep them stable while he uses a grapple to go from street-level to the top of the nearest building. “I’m taking you home.”

“No! I need to talk to her.” Tim briefly manages to loosen the hold on him, but all that does is free Jason’s hand to dig something out of his jacket. “Hood, it’s _important._ Weren’t you listening to her? She did something to me, I have to find out what so I can reverse it – “

“Just calm down, Babybird.” Jason sprays something in his face, and it’s – it’s a sedative, _fuck._ Tim couldn’t hold his breath fast enough. He stumbles, and Jason gets an arm around him again, holding him steady until he blacks out.

\------

He wakes up to the _fucking_ handcuff again, and the only thing that stops him from just screaming is that he’s pretty sure his head would split open from the sedative hangover. It feels like they strapped him down this time, too, or at least until he manages to crack his eyes open and realize that what felt like some serious restraints are actually a fair amount of his family using various parts of his body as a pillow.

God, his _life_.

He groans, and a hand starts stroking his hair. Jason stares down at him from where he’s sitting at Tim’s side, something regretful and genuine in his eyes. “Sorry about hitting you with that shit.”

Before Tim can even answer, Damian stirs and lifts his head from where it was resting on Tim’s chest. “You left,” he says, sounding so young and _hurt_ that Tim’s chest aches.

“I had to talk to Ivy.”

Dick’s the last one to get up, stretching and wincing as his back cracks a little. “Yeah, we need to talk about that.”

“Dick. She confirmed it,” Tim says, locking eyes with his oldest brother and willing him to just _believe him_ this time. “Ivy. I was _right_ , she _did_ do something. There was some kind of compound she was working on, it was supposed to make people instinctively want to protect her.”

Damian stares at him, a tiny furrow in his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Tim…” Dick reaches out and squeezes his hand, and Tim knows, he just _knows_ that whatever’s about to come out of his brother’s mouth is going to be more bullshit like there’s something wrong with _Tim_. “We’ve _talked_ about this. No one here is drugged.”

“I _talked to her_ and she _confirmed it,”_ Tim repeats, trying to ignore the way desperation is creeping into his voice because _no_ , Dick can’t just dismiss this again. Tim _knows_ he’s right now.

Jason snaps his fingers to get their attention. “Anyone wanna share with the class?”

“Tim thinks the only way we could care about him is if we were under the influence of some mind-altering substance.”

“Huh.” Jason’s fingers still for a second before he resumes massaging Tim’s scalp. “That’s a new one. Points for creativity and dedication, Babybird.”

“I’m _not crazy_.” Tim has to shut his eyes and just _breathe_ for a second or he really is going to start screaming. “Have any of you been listening to me? I _talked to Ivy and she confirmed it_.”

“And we believe crazy villains about this stuff since when…?”

Tim struggles, somehow managing to get Damian, Dick, and Jason to back off just enough. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but two of the people in this bed right now have _tried to kill me on multiple occasions_. Not even that _long_ ago. God, what do I have to say to get this through to you people? This isn’t _you._ This isn’t _any_ of you!”

Damian pushes himself off the bed abruptly. “If you would prefer not to have my presence, I’ll leave.” It’s there in his eyes again, that vulnerable _hurt_ , and for what feels like the thousandth time, Tim has to remind himself that he’s _right_. If Damian was himself, he would hate Tim like usual, _hate_ being made to care about him.

Somehow, that doesn’t make him feel much better in the face of an upset eleven-year-old. “Damian…”

Damian practically runs out of the room, and Jason stands up carefully so he doesn’t jostle Tim too much before following him. “I’ll go talk to the kid.”

Once they’re alone, Dick pins Tim with his ‘disappointed older brother’ stare. “That was over the line. He’s been working really hard getting along with you.”

“It’s not…” It’s like an awful kind of time loop, where he has to keep having the same conversation over and over. Tim breathes out shakily. “It’s not _real_ , Dick.”

“ _God_.” Dick drops his head into his hands and lets out an exhausted groan that makes Tim feel even worse for putting his family through this (except it’s _not him_ , it’s Ivy’s fault). “What do we have to _do_ , Tim? How do we convince you this is the way it’s supposed to be?”

“I don’t…” He stares at Dick, feeling helpless and so incredibly lost. “I’m _not_ crazy.”

“I never thought you were.” His brother tries to smile at him and fails miserably. “But what I think is that you’re really hurt and confused because we’re trying to tell you we care about you and you never really learned what to do with that, so you don’t trust it.”

“It’s not real,” Tim whispers like they’re the only words he knows.

Dick just sighs, ruffles Tim’s hair lightly and kisses him on the forehead. “I’ll go help smooth things over with Little D and Jase. Just…” He sighs again. “Just try to _pretend_ like you believe this is real. Like you have a family who loves you. Okay? Just _try,_ even for just a few minutes, and see what it feels like _._ ”

Tim can’t think of anything to say to that, so he doesn’t, just watches quietly while Dick follows his brothers, leaving him alone in his room.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

About all Tim can do for the next few hours is re-hone his technique for glaring at inanimate objects until Damian lets himself into the bedroom a couple hours later. “Grayson and Todd have explained to me that your thought process is compromised,” he says, stiffly. “In light of this information, I will attempt to be supportive.” He hesitates, and then climbs onto the bed to give Tim an awkward hug.

Tim’s not really sure what to do with that, so he just pats Damian’s shoulder before saying, carefully, “Thank you, Damian. Could you… get Bruce for me? I need to talk to him about something.”

“I will retrieve Father for you,” Damian says after a moment, with a serious little nod.

Tim only has to wait about fifteen minutes before Bruce shows up in his doorway, and Tim sits up immediately, tries to look as serious and trustworthy and s _ane_ as he can while still being handcuffed to a bed. “Tim,” Bruce says, quietly. “What do you need, son?”

“Bruce. I’m your – “ Tim stops, reconsiders. “I _was_ your partner, right? As Robin.”

“Yes.” Bruce doesn’t say anything else, just waits for Tim to continue.

“And you trusted me, right?”

“Of course.”

“So – “ Here goes nothing. _Again_. “Could you trust me now? If I said that something is wrong? That this family isn’t acting rationally, that the way you’re acting around me is crazy?”

He can see it in Bruce’s eyes, some kind of struggle going on inside. And maybe he knows this isn’t _right_ , somewhere deep down, or maybe he’s just willing to consider it as a thought experiment as a favor to his kid – Tim doesn’t care, because Bruce finally says, “What do you think happened?”

“It’s Ivy. Okay? The last time I was out as Red Robin, she hit me with something that affects the people around me. When I snuck out, it was to talk to her, and she _admitted_ she’d developed it as a way to make people want to protect her, but it worked too well,” he says, all in a rush. “You, Dick, Alfred, Damian, even Jason – you’ve all been compromised this whole time.” He takes a breath. “B, I _know_ you know this is wrong. You’ve basically been keeping me a prisoner here. I mean, _handcuffs?_ ” Tim pointedly rattles the one keeping his wrist attached to the bedframe. “This is _insane_.”

Bruce is quiet, thinking about it, and all Tim can do is wait and _hope. Just believe me. Bruce, you know this is wrong. Let me go, and let me find a way to fix this_.

“If it’s really bothering you, I’ll look into it,” he says, eventually.

“I’ve already _been_ looking into it. I already know who’s responsible. Just let me go back and talk to Ivy. I won’t – “ Tim wracks his thoughts for _something_ that will appease Bruce’s psychotically protective urges. “What if you go with me? That way, you won’t have to worry. You’ll be right there if anything goes wrong. Bruce – _please?_ ”

“I’ll think about it, Tim.” Bruce brushes a hand over Tim’s forehead. “I’ll let you know when I’ve come to a decision.”

It’s not – it’s nowhere near what he wants, but it’s miles ahead of where he was an hour ago, so Tim forces a smile. “Thanks, B.”

__

Ivy’s hideout is empty. Of course it’s empty. Multiple Bats showed up there and made it clear they knew where she was and were capable of accessing the area. Why would she stay?

Tim feels like screaming again. Bruce lays a hand on his shoulder – in some other circumstance, its weight might have been comforting. “I’ll talk to Oracle. I’m sure there’s a few other locations I could look into,” he says.

“Yeah. Okay,” Tim says dully. “I’m gonna look around. In case she left anything.” Probably not, but he doesn’t exactly have a lot to lose at this point, does he? At least he’ll get the novelty of being free and a whole couple of rooms away from any member of his family.

“I’ll be right here.” Bruce squeezes his shoulder once before letting go. “If you find anything, come get me immediately.”

“Yeah, sure, B.” Okay. If he were a crazy botanist, where would he keep his data? Tim goes rifling through a few rooms. Aside from the leftover foliage (nothing dangerous – he recognizes the species, and as long as he doesn’t touch them, he’s fine), there’s nothing of note. He takes a second to check in with Bruce _(I’m fine, nothing so far)_ before continuing his useless search.

“Pst! Birdboy!”

The doors click shut, suddenly, and Harley Quinn drops out of absolutely _nowhere_ and bounces back up onto her feet. Tim immediately grabs his staff and adjusts his stance so he’s ready for an attack. She’s not in costume (she’s wearing a lab coat, actually, with the phrase _Doctor of FUN!!!!_ stitched onto it where a name tag might have been), and her body language is open and cheerful, not threatening, but this is _Harley_.

“Didn’t want the Big, Bad Bat getting in the way. Red cleared out, but she left you a present.” Harley digs a vial out of her pocket and brandishes it at him. “Said this’ll fix your little problem.”

Time didn’t become Robin by checking his brain at the door, but he’s desperate enough to _want_ to at least consider this. “Why would she give me a cure?”

Harley tilts her head and starts tapping a finger against her chin. “Maybe she feels guilty? I like to think that she’s been hanging out with Kitty and me so much lately that our good-heartedness is rubbing off on her.”

Tim carefully does not point out that the odds of _Harley_ being a good influence on anyone are pretty low. Just in case there’s a chance this offer is for real, he doesn’t want to piss her off yet.

“There’s a condition, though.” Harley takes a hypodermic out of the same pocket as the vial. “Blood sample. Red gets to test what happened. You get the cure. Everyone walks away happy.”

Or he could adjust his stance slightly, getting ready to just attack Harley and take the vial, because no way in _hell_ is he giving Ivy a sample of his blood.

Harley wags a finger at him. “Uh-uh! No cheating!”

He expected the possibility of a gaseous attack and had prepared for it with a rebreather. What he didn’t expect was for every plant within a six foot radius to suddenly vomit sap on him. It hardens fast and sticks him in place. There might be a paralytic and/or anesthetic involved, too, because his skin numbs on contact, and his muscles are locking up.

Harley grabs his arm and cuts a little hole into his suit using scissors so she can get to the skin. She efficiently cleans the area over a vein and takes a blood sample before swapping over to the vial he desperately hopes is an antidote and not outright poison. “There! That wasn’t so bad, was it?” She pats his cheek and tapes a wad of gauze over the needle mark before sticking a bright yellow smiley-faced band-aid on top for good measure. “Ivy said to give it a day and expect some side effects.” Harley pauses. “She didn’t say what side effects.” She shrugs and offers him a bright smile. “Oh well. It’ll probably be okay.”

He means to watch her when she leaves so he can make a note of how she got in and out without him or Batman noticing, but the _side effects_ take hold fast. His vision swims, lightheadedness taking over, and he’s starting to worry his legs are going to give out on him when the doors click open and Batman sprints to his side.

“Red Robin?”

“Hey, B.” He can sort of wave at Bruce, if a half-inch of movement counts as a wave. “Bright side: I _might_ have found an antidote.”

He’s about 95% sure they break some landspeed records on the way back to the Batcave, where he’s immediately moved to the medical section. For the first time in a while, Tim feels shitty enough that he’s perfectly happy to submit to his family’s brand of insane care if it means making sure he’s not going to die any time soon.

At some point not too long after they got to the Cave, he just passes out. When he wakes up, he is unbelievably relieved to find that he’s free to get up. There’s no siblings lying around and pinning him in place, no handcuffs keeping him attached to the bed. He’s alone, actually, which is such a novelty that he has to lie back and savor it for a few minutes before he sits up and starts disconnecting sensors and an IV line. He’s still kind of dizzy and has a headache, but it’s not so bad that he can’t wander around a bit and find out what’s going on.

It feels like an actual miracle that he doesn’t find anyone skulking around corners to keep an eye on him. Or anyone at all, really, until he hits the kitchen, because apparently what’s going on is breakfast. “Hi?” he says, and steels himself for being tackled and dragged back to his bedroom or the Cave, whichever is deemed safer.

“Hey, Tim,” Dick says warmly while Bruce grunts out something resembling a _good morning_ and Damian acknowledges his presence with a quiet _tt_ while distracting himself with his phone. “Feeling better?”

He does, in fact, pinch himself to check if he’s awake. No one rushes to his side to stop him from injuring himself, and he feels kind of lightheaded again with relief. “Much,” he says. Alfred greets him with a smile and an offer of eggs, and Tim sits down at a table filled with people who are practically ignoring him, and it feels _amazing_.

– And okay, maybe somewhere in the back of his head, he’s a tiny bit concerned that they’re all apparently just ignoring the events of the past few months, but you know what? He’s okay with that. If his family wants to pretend nothing weird ever happened, Tim is perfectly happy to play along and manually scrub the events of the past couple months out of his memory if necessary.

After breakfast, he spends the day doing whatever he wants without anyone hanging off him or intervening out of misplaced concern that he’ll strain himself. He even leaves the Manor and goes to a coffee shop just for the hell of it, and no one says a thing or insists on accompanying him. The real test is when he suits up that night and heads for his ‘cycle in the Batcave in full view of both Dick and Damian, and neither of them demands he stay home. Tim has to duck out of sight and shove a hand over his mouth to muffle the giddy laughter that’s bubbling up in his chest, because it’s _over_. He’s _free_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> totally the end. yep. everything is great from here on out. 
> 
> :)

**Author's Note:**

> If you are interested in my fics and want more, I have an account at syntactition.tumblr.com where I have bits of stories that are currently in the works and other ficlets and stories that haven't made their way to AO3.  
> /obligatory plug


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